Undergraduate / I stand in firm affirmation of CMU - Prompt Why CMU [7]

Please submit a one page, single-spaced essay that explains why you have chosen CM, and your particular major, department, or program. This essay should include the reasons why you've chosen the major, any goals or relevant work plans, and any other information you would like us to know.

**Thanks in advance!**

I glance anxiously at my timer, watching as the precious seconds tick by. Clenching the device in my sweating hand, I manage to squeak out the last remaining words:

"...which is why we stand in firm affirmation of the resolution."

This is how I spend a majority of my Saturdays: debating what the US government should or should not do and watching spittle fly off the lips of enraged opponents. We sit for an hour and a half, hunched over our laptops, half-listening to the speeches, typing furiously away at the keyboard with one hand, scribbling on a piece of paper with the other, all the while exchanging eye-rolls and exasperated looks with the judge, as if to say, "Can you believe what this guy is saying right now? I'm laughing! Look at me..I'm laughing!"

Yet, in the midst of all the anguish, exasperation, and rising blood pressure, I have found what thrills me most.

Spending four years as a policy debater has helped me obtain an incredible database of knowledge, but unfortunately, I don't know what to do with all this information. My experiences have helped me craft creative essays about government assistance, spew out statistics like a volcano, and succeed in making my challengers feel irrelevant, yet there is always a little voice in the back of my mind, telling me that there is so much more that I can do. This is precisely why I choose Carnegie Mellon.

Majoring in International Relations to become a foreign affairs analyst requires skillful application of analytic tools to create and implement solutions that would solve real-world crises. CMU's Dietrich College of Humanities and Social Sciences provides the perfect opportunity to further my education in this way. I am persuaded, by the stellar reputation of the Department of Social and Decision Sciences, along with its establishment of the Center for International Relations and Politics (CIRP), that this is where I want to spend the next four years of my life. Perusing through a range of CIRP websites, I've discovered a long list of research opportunities that focus on globalization, a facet that has fascinated me since I started policy debate. By studying at CMU, I hope to one day work in the center's Research Lab in International Relations and Politics, alongside esteemed faculty such as Professor Kiron Skinner, and offer fresh perspectives about world affairs.

Additionally, I am highly anticipating the prospect of CMU's Washington Semester Program; the fact that it is open to all CMU undergraduates really shows Carnegie Mellon's dedication to promote a better understanding of public policy issues in our nation and around the world. Personally, I plan to take full advantage of this program and receive direct insight into relationships and interactions of the federal government with other organizations in D.C.

Carnegie Mellon is where I want to put all the knowledge I acquired from high school debating into good use. This is where I want to be: I want to talk politics with people who are just as interested, I want to engage in diplomacy that produces fruitful results, and I want to witness firsthand the impacts of my work in the international system.

This is why I stand in firm affirmation of Carnegie Mellon.

Undergraduate / "I'm not even Chinese, stupid!" - Identity Crisis; The Common "language barrier" [3]

Prompt: Some students have a background or story that is so central to their identity that they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.

**I honestly need so much help with this essay (pretty cliche, I know) and my mind is failing me. Thanks, in advance!**

"Chink."

She tasted it on her tongue, and it reviled her. It was only five letters...five innocent letters that combined to form a spiteful and disgusting word.

Glaring at the boy who had hurled this insult, she shouted back, "I'm not even Chinese, stupid!"

Her comebacks as a seven year-old were breathtaking.
She watched him snigger, turn to his cluster of friends, and then point at her. "Ching chong ting tong!" She watched as they all seemed to collapse in laughter.

There was something wet at the corners of her eyes. Lightly brushing her fingertips over her face, she found the evidence and stared at it in curiosity. Then, all of a sudden, she spun around, with her pigtails flying and her mouth twisted into an ironic smirk, and drew her fist back. The boy's eyes widened and watched as her fist

Pause.

This lovely picture of a sneering little Asian girl is me, experiencing for the first times the physical torments of a culture shock. As you can tell by the crazed rabid-dog look in my eyes, I am emotionally unstable, and, if you haven't noticed, have recently discovered a new function for my fists.

Fast forward.

Seven years have gone by. The girl is still adjusting to the complexities of American society, but she is learning fast. She understands that anything different will be ostracized.

At the supermarket, she watches furiously as a group of older teenagers walks by her father and makes fun of his Korean accent.Yellow slit-eyed chink. At home, she helps her dad practice his English, but he still cannot say a simple "I am an American" without stumbling and adding a few syllables here and there.

At school, she buries her nose in books, books, and more books. She busies herself by competing in math, spelling bee, violin, and piano competitions. She stops responding to her parents in Korean and instead forces them to understand her English.

Fast forward.

One night she finds herself alone, with a book as her sole companion. Her eyes feel hot, and her nose drips something nasty, as she focuses on the blurry page in front of her. She reads the powerful quiet daring words again:

"You can't change who you are. No matter how you struggle, some things will never change. And maybe they shouldn't."

Pause.

I remember laughing at my childishness, at the childishness of others. Did I really loathe my identity that much?

I grimace every time I think about how I had abandoned my mother tongue. Watching my Korean-American peers speak so fluently and effortlessly, I berate myself for throwing away my native language. Trying to relearn Korean had been a grueling process for me. Understanding it was easy. Speaking it, on other hand, was torturous. The years spent working on my American accent could not disappear so easily; my friends constantly teased me for speaking like a "white girl." And, in the midst of it all, I realized how much time I had wasted trying to rid myself of what made me...me.

Fast forward.

She is sitting at a table in her favorite café. Absorbed in her Spanish homework, she does not notice as a haggard-looking group trudges in, obviously weary from their trip. Their loud exclamations shatter the comfortable silence.

Her ears pick up broken segments of conversations, and she looks up. She realizes that they are Korean, and they are asking for directions. No one understands them. One man, the leader, pushes a hand through his hair in frustration, crumpling the map in his hand. In that moment, she understands it all.

She smiles and stands up. In Korean, she asks, "Excuse me, are you lost?"

Play.